A Grand Day Out (apologies to Wallace & Gromit)

I was thinking about titling this one "If 'better' means 'faster' " but challenges are not about speed, are they? It's about doing what you set out to do.
Unless, of course, it's a target you've widely told everyone you're going to beat easily. And then don't.
At this point, LONG POST WARNING..... Get yourself a cuppa before proceeding.


At some point in January or February this year, it seems I decided it was a good idea to enter an ultra event. I don't know why but I think blaming it on the Ultra Queen duo of Plodding Hippo and Bear B. Hind seems a good bet. Anyway, the 50 Mile Challenge it was.


I did two marathons in April on not a lot of training. The plan was then to get back into running and train for this small matter of an ultra. 'Plan' ..... hmmm. I did start cycling to work following a week's rest after Shakespeare Marathon but the sum total of running since then up until Sunday morning was


61 miles


No, that's not a typo.


Oh dear, not a good starting point. So training obviously hadn't been part of the strategy for the event. The lovely BBH was taking care of accommodation and telling when and where to meet for transport, so all I had to do was pack. That happened on Saturday and I was getting 'stressy'. Finally, I realised what I was supposed to be doing the next day. It had been preying on my mind a little in the preceding days: I'd even thought about 'pacing', hydration, nutrition and technical things like that.


BBH and I met up on Saturday over a pint at Victoria station before boarding the train to Herne Bay. The driver of our minicab was very gallant and didn't laugh his socks off at the idea of these two women (of a certain age) embarking upon a "2 marathon run" the next day. Our accommodation was wonderful. A lovely farm house with an equally lovely landlady, Freda. We found we had an extra room-mate, another forumite, but hey, no problem! We walked down to Race HQ, conveniently located at a pub. We ordered some fantastic grub and some hydration fluids. There were a few other victims there too, so it was great to start to imbibe the atmosphere. The Hippo collided with congestion on the M25 so didn't make it for supper.


Sunday dawned. Very early. Nervous giggling could be heard from the various rooms in the b&b. The place was full of real or potential ultra runners. I'd taken my own breakfast. I knew enough not to trust anyone else with that. I'm a serious athlete, after all. I'd commenced drug intake the night before. Freda took us down to the Start. Eeek it was going to happen. We put our bags down on a foil blanket I happened to have with me (I did leave the kitchen sink behind though), and covered them up. The amazing Race Director, Mike, gave a brief talk warning us to drink plenty and beware tractors as, if it stayed dry, harvesting would be starting. Oh, we laughed.


6am and we started. If there were a strategy in my head, it was to start slowly and steadily. However, I knew I was going too fast when the first mile was bang on 10m/m. Chatted to some fellow runners, saw a mole run across the path and generally tried to plod along pretending that there weren't 52 miles in front of me. Then the joke about harvesting struck home. At 3 miles there was a spit of rain or two. Then some rumbling in the distance. The occasional flash of lightning. But not too near. It started to rain a little. Then a lot. Someone said "Oh it's only supposed to last an hour and then move on". I remember thinking "ONLY an hour? What do you mean ONLY?" Then it went monsoon-like, torrential, flipping well raining a lot. We were wading through puddles, lakes, fording streams and rivers, kayaking across valleys. Well, perhaps not quite all of those. I have it in my head that this wetness in the air lasted until about mile 10. Although I'd taken drugs, not only were there the ominous rumblings down below but I also felt like throwing up. Around mile 3/4, the Race Director was on the route and I asked him where the next toilet was. I decided not to try the portaloo at the fishery and waited until the end of the first lap - 6.55 miles. The signs were not good. But I didn't want to chunder any more.


Second lap, I kept plodding along. Mostly in the rain. I was absorbing the delights of a mostly off-road course now. Mostly through my feet. I'm not known for my love of: off-road, cross-country, mud, rain. This one had it all in buckets. Long grass too, so progress was marked by a swishing sound. In the first lap, I had oddly experienced cramp in my right foot, just below the middle toes. I relate this to cycling usually. I decided I didn't really need all those toes to function, so ignored it. After a while I didn't notice it.


At the start of the third lap, after another loo break, I decided to pick up my camelbak, complete with free-loading womble, and switched to my sports drink of orange juice and water (with some salt thrown in too). I also decided to adopt a walk a minute per mile strategy. I was getting into it now.


Fourth lap, and I switched to 1:5 walk:run. I was trying to be sensible (for the first time) as I knew there was a long way to go. I bumped into Hippo on the two-way section and we had a quick chat.


I got to half way in 5.01 and decided to issue my first in-race report of the day. I purposely had my phone on silent so I wouldn't be distracted by incoming messages. BBH was there at the end of her third lap, trying to find some fresh clothes. Unfortunately, her bag had got wet despite being covered (the rain had soaked in from below). I'd heard that you're supposed to eat on these long distance events, so I broke open a muller rice (apple flavour) and forced most of it down. I'm really not good at eating while 'running'. I topped up my camelbak and put on my 'jungle hat' as described by Mr Mike.


Off out into the unknown on lap 5, I set the watch to 1:4 walk:run. I more or less stuck to that. My little brain was, by now, trying to do some maths. I'd set myself a hope/target/objective of sub-12 hours although I'd no idea at all if that were realistic or achievable. If I kept going ok, it seemed do-able. I was quite cheery despite the conditions.


At the beginning of lap 6, I decided to take a cup of black coffee and a bag of crisps with me. It was funny, I suddenly felt like having a coffee and it was good. Part of the way round, my left inner quad started feeling crampy. It wasn't full-on cramp but I knew if I did 'the wrong thing' it would be nasty and I really didn't want to experience that. My run/walk was settling into run some, walk some by now but I decided that anymore running could see cramp so I gave up on that idea and settled for walking. Quickly. I don't do slow walking.


For the start of lap 7, I sent the second missive: only a half marathon to go! That seemed a funny thing to say, but it really didn't seem very far although by then I'd been out for a tad over 8 hours. It was starting to feel warm, so I tried pouring water over my hat. Slightly futile as it simply drained off, so I poured some more over my head and then restored the hat! Collected another coffee and pack of crisps and I was on my way. Only one more lap after this. I was going to do it, come what may. The marshalls were so friendly. They knew our names and were chatty and helpful. The Race Director seemed to be out on the course all the time, offering advice and words of encouragement. There were support vehicles driving round offering ice poles (ice pops?) and bottles of water! Fantastic, the cola flavour one was 'interesting'. The course was a figure of 8 with an elongated join between the two loops where there was both-way traffic. This was great. You met other folk at various stages of their toils, saying hi! or stopping to chat. On the other hand, because of the double-load of foot-traffic, the path didn't improve - the mud simply spread out into a swamp at several points. Squelch. There was some black humour developing by now in the quick exchanges on crossing paths with fellow combatants.


During lap 7, I was alternately telling myself that I might be able to go sub-11.30 and not being able to. By the time I reached the pub I was convinced that, if I pushed myself, then I could still manage sub-11.45. Whoopee!!! At the pub for the last time before the end, I topped the camelbak up again just with water this time, ignored the coffee and crisps and went for it.


Lap 8 found me smiling most of the time. I really was going to do it. At race HQ, nrg-b's lovely wife told me that Hippo was just ahead. When I finally spotted her, it seemed like she then decided to go faster: getting further away instead of nearer! She was even running! Coming up to Tourette's Hill (work it out) I was finally drawing closer and stopped briefly for a chat at the water station just the other side. I then drew ahead. Mike was here and he put his hand on my shoulder and said "When you get to the 4 mile marker down there, you'll have done 50 miles". How sweet. He knew it was my first ultra. However, at precisely that marker while smiling to press my lap counter, I also let out an audible "Ouch" as something happened under my right foot. It was blister-related but I wasn't sure what exactly had happened. My theory in these circumstances is to carry on, I never remove the shoe to have a look. As it turns out, a big blister had burst.


Finally off the last, particularly puddled section of off-road, I was literally on the last bit. The final stretch was the road to the pub. I tried to stretch out a little, ho ho. The last few yards and I turned the corner to see the finish. Oh dear, what was happening? I reached the table and the wonderful time-keeping ladies and managed to blurt out '34' between sobs. "Is she ok?" said one to the other. "Yes" I blithered. I really hadn't realised how much it had meant to do this. My finish time was


11 hours 29 minutes 18 seconds for 52.4 miles


I'd even managed to go under 11 and a half hours. THUD.

It's funny how, as soon as you finish a race of whatever distance, your body stops. It knows it doesn't have to try anymore. I gathered my bags and collapsed onto a picnic bench. Then 'swiftly' decided I needed some rehydration fluids.... Lots of bodies were loitering with no intent at all other than to sit and be and reflect upon what had gone before. There were muddy shoes littering the area, along with muddy legs and smiling faces. There's a wonderful camaraderie at ultras (I've spectated/supported at them before) and so it was here too. A supportive atmosphere that says whatever time you've taken it's a tremendous achievement, no more nor less than anyone else's. Hippo plodded in and we waited for BBH. Rumour had it that she'd turned round near the end. We hoped she hadn't decided to do another lap - she'd dropped her hat and gone to find it!


An amazing day. I'd had to explain the meaning of 'apprehensive' to Miniwomble on Saturday but wow, I'd done it.

52.4 miles

Mud. More mud. Very muddy.









How to confuse a Hippo.











BBH plus hat!